


Veritas Vos Liberabit

by half_alive



Series: Respice, Adspice, Prospice [1]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety Attacks, Closeted Character, College Football, Depression, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Hurt Barry Allen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Injury Recovery, M/M, Secret Relationship, Sports, Track Star Barry Allen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-06-01
Packaged: 2020-02-25 22:44:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18711190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/half_alive/pseuds/half_alive
Summary: If you had asked Barry a year ago where he thought he’d be now, he would’ve had it all mapped out. Fourth year of his undergrad, finishing up his degree with a thesis that was no doubt consuming his every waking thought. Fresh off his co-op at the most innovative lab in the country, he would’ve said something about the countless job offers he’d be fielding for when he finally graduated, or maybe about taking the track team to championships for the fourth year in a row and coming back with another gold medal to hang on his wall.Instead, he’s sitting in the bleachers of the stadium watching his boyfriend score another touchdown, waiting for the game to finish so Len can pretend he doesn’t know him and Barry can pretend he wouldn’t give anything to have just a piece of this — the turf under his sneakers, the burn behind his ribs, the rush of competition.After an injury leaves Barry unable to run track anymore, he struggles to stay in control of his life, including his relationship with closeted football player Len.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! Super excited to finally be posting this. It's one of my favourite things I've written in ages. I've been working on it for a while now because I wanted to be mostly finished before I posted it, and also because it was originally going to be a one-shot. It got too long and divided nicely into chapters, though, so here we are. I'll be adding tags as I post each chapter, both to avoid spoilers and avoid me having to figure them all out at once.
> 
> I know very very little about football and have never seen a game, but I tried to do some googling so hopefully those parts are accurate. If not, feel free to call me out.
> 
> Title roughly translates to 'The truth will set you free', and the series title very very roughly translates to 'Look back, look to the present, look to the future'.

The track team at CCU saved Barry’s life. It was hard to explain that to people, and even harder to find someone who understood when he did, but it was true.

He’d been told countless times that everyone struggled their first year in college, that it was normal to feel like you couldn’t get your head above water long enough to take a breath. It was part of the adjustment phase — you just had to grit your teeth, bucker down, and fail a few assignments until you figured out how to manage life in the real world.

Only, for Barry it had been more than that. No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn’t focus on the work he needed to do. It seemed like every time he finally got one thing out of the way, six more popped up. He felt like an alien on campus, like he was an imposter in every room he walked into. The friends he tried to make felt more like acquaintances who only sat with him because it was better than sitting alone. His roommates were distant, uncomfortable to be around, and he couldn’t stop feeling like he was invading their space and that they would be so much happier if he wasn’t there.

He felt like that about most people, really. No matter how kind they were, how far out of their way they went to talk to him, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was unwanted. And when it got harder and harder to get out of bed, to drag himself to the kitchen and find something to eat, to make the ten minute walk to campus to attend his classes, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was dragging everyone around him down with him.

It took Joe driving all the way across the city in the middle of the night for him to accept that what he was feeling was more than the college stress everyone else talked about. He spent that night in the hospital, staring at white walls while Joe hovered at his bedside, the picture of the concerned parent.

It was his therapist who recommended the team. Or, well, who recommended some kind of involvement on campus. She thought it would help him to feel less out of place and that it might provide him the opportunity to make more meaningful relationships.

At the time, he’d still been wary of trusting anything she had to say. It hadn’t been his idea to see her, but he’d promised Joe he’d talk to someone after he’d refused to talk to him.

Still, he thought it couldn’t hurt. He’d attend the try outs, not make the team, and he could go back to his therapist and tell her he’d tried but it wasn’t in the cards.

That wasn’t what happened. What did happen was that the coach pulled him aside and told him that while he wasn’t good enough yet, he had potential. He wouldn’t be in any of the upcoming competitions, but he could train with the team and probably be ready in time for the midseason races. It was the break Barry had been waiting to catch, but he almost didn’t take it.

It wasn’t until he’d attended the first training session, exhausted from waking up at five in the morning after another night of being unable to fall asleep, that he really accepted that this was something he wanted to do. It wasn’t just that the environment was more welcoming than anywhere else he’d been on campus, or that the other boys on the team slapped his shoulder and joked around and smiled like he’d been their brother all their lives, or that the coach didn’t scold him for finishing two minutes behind everyone else, just clapped his arm and told him what to change to be faster the next time. It was the one part of it that Barry had been most wary of — the running itself.

Growing up, kids his age had never taken well to Barry. Whether it was because he was good in school but quiet on the playground, or because their parents told them not to play with the kid who’s dad was serving life in Iron Heights, he was the target of all the aggression they couldn’t get out elsewhere. He’d learned quickly not to delude himself into thinking he could defend himself. When it came to fight or flight, Barry always chose flight.

Back then, running had been a means of survival. How fast he could run equated to how many beatings he took. The shame that accompanied the black eyes and insults he couldn’t get out of his head rubbed off on the act of running itself, and it became associated with everything that sucked about going to school.

Running on the track team, though? It was freeing. It was a satisfying burn behind his ribs every time he beat his last best time. It was the turf of the CCU track staining his sneakers more and more green with each early morning training session he attended. It was the air on his red cheeks, turning the sweat on his body ice cold as he passed the other boys. It was the first thing he’d done all year that had felt _right_.

Barry wasn’t sure where he would’ve been if he hadn’t found that. It had been the foothold he’d needed to finally get his head above water and take that first breath of clean air. Without it, he would’ve surely drowned.

Now that he couldn’t have that, he was worried he would start to lose his footing and go under again.

.

Barry was very familiar with the parking lot behind the CCU stadium. It was reserved to people with a permit, which consisted of the various team members and staff who used or worked at the arena. This meant that it was either completely packed or completely empty at all times, and never anything in between.

Barry himself didn’t have a pass, but the car he was by wasn’t registered under his name, so the permit sat on the dashboard, announcing to the world that there’d be hell to pay if they towed it. As if the Ferrari logo wasn’t doing a good enough job of it.

Tucking his phone away, he kicked his leg up where he was already leaning against it and stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets. The parking lot was full of cars, but he was the only person in sight. It wasn’t surprising — practice hadn’t let out yet, and anyone else who cared probably had better things to do with their time than wait around like a desperate groupie.

No sooner had he thought it than the back door swung open and a gaggle of boys came pouring out. They were loud enough that it was jarring after twenty minutes of waiting in silence, jostling each other around and shouting light-hearted insults across the parking lot as they all dispersed to their respective cars.

Barry didn’t care about any of that. He only cared about the guy who was now walking toward him, sporting the letterman jacket Barry had made countless jokes about when he first saw it and a look that said he wasn’t entirely happy to see him.

“Hey,” Len greeted when he got close enough to be heard at the hushed half-whisper he was using. He hoisted his duffle bag with all his football gear higher up on his shoulder, glancing behind him to the rest of the team as he came to a stop before Barry. “I thought we were meeting at your place?”

Barry tried not to let his tone get to him. “I was late getting out of class, so I figured I’d just meet you here,” he explained. He kept his own voice happy and unbothered as he pushed off Len’s car, making his way around to the passenger seat while Len tossed his stuff in the back and got behind the wheel.

“You figured,” Len said as he shut the door. It muffled the sounds of the rest of his team still joshing around outside, which only served to make the tension in the air more palpable.

“Should I not have?” Barry asked innocently. “I can still head back on my own if you don’t want to see me tonight.”

Sighing, the irritation flooded out of Len to be replaced with frustration. He scrubbed a hand down his face, which was still a little flushed from three hours of running drills. Eventually, he pursed his lips and started the car, not looking at Barry. “No, it’s fine. Of course I want to see you.”

 _Of course_ , Barry repeated to himself as they pulled away from the stadium and started towards his apartment, which was only a seven minute drive off campus. The tone of voice was completely different in his head than what Len had actually used, a product of the bitterness Barry was doing his best not to show.

It wasn’t Len’s fault. Barry had known he wouldn’t appreciate him showing up at the stadium, and he’d also known that by doing so he was breaching some of the unspoken rules that kept their relationship from crashing and burning.

He’d wanted a fight. He was disappointed that he hadn’t gotten one, though there was still an entire evening ahead of them for it to come up. He hated himself for it, but it was true.

The world of college football was full of glory, close knit ties to teammates, and many lessons on discipline and hard work. What it was also full of was close mindedness and homophobia. Len, who’d been on the varsity team since his freshman year, had never even considered coming out.

Barry had known that two weeks into their relationship, which had started seven months after Len joined the team and they ran into each other at the athletics banquet that year. It hadn’t bothered him then. He understood the reality that Len was safer in the closet, and he also understood that it didn’t have anything to do with him. Len’s decision to keep their relationship a secret was about him and his own life, and being able to do what he loved with the people he loved without having to worry they were going to shun him or ruin his chances at the future he’d been working towards for so long.

Part of what had drawn them together was how well Barry understood that. Though he was fortunate that no one on the track team cared about who he was with, he knew what it was like to love something so much you would give up anything to be able to keep doing it, even for one more day.

He knew it even better now, since that scar on the back of his leg had ensured he would never be able to race again. There was nothing Barry wouldn’t give to have that, including having a public relationship with his boyfriend. There was also nothing he could give that would make any difference.

But even though he understood, in the months since his injury he’d found himself more and more bothered by all the sneaking around they had to do. Every time Len acted like he didn’t know him, every game he had to watch from the back of the stands like he was just another spectator, every time Len blew him off for a night with the guys because he couldn’t tell his team he had a boyfriend he was supposed to be with instead, Barry grew more and more frustrated.

It wasn’t because it bothered him that Len’s teammates didn’t know. He didn’t give a fuck about them. It was that sometimes he still needed Len outside the privacy of their apartments, and he couldn’t have him. Most of the time, he couldn’t even have a nod of acknowledgement when they passed each other on campus.

Barry took a deep breath as they pulled up to his apartment complex. He’d been antsy all day, since Cisco had told him the track team had qualified for Nationals. He couldn’t take that out on Len, who had probably had an equally difficult day between three gruelling hours of practice and the exam he’d had to write that morning.

Reaching across the console, he took Len’s hand. It was a silent apology that Len probably wouldn’t interpret as such, because Len probably didn’t think anything was wrong. He was good like that — even when Barry pushed too far, he was willing to accept whatever explanation Barry gave and assume he’d had the best intentions.

Len turned his hand over under Barry’s, lacing their fingers together. He smiled at him, pulling the keys from the ignition. With a quick glance around, he leaned over the seats to give Barry a short kiss.

They were fine. Barry was making problems where there weren’t any. He was angry at the world, frustrated by the injury that had left him feeling trapped in his own skin, and he was trying to bring the rest of the world down to his level, too. He needed to stop, before it ruined anything else.

.

Caitlin smiled as soon as she caught Barry’s eye. Heading towards her, he gave her a wide-eyed look that conveyed how relieved he was to have made it in the nick of time, the professor trailing in right behind him.

She held his laptop while he got himself sorted in the seat beside her, handing it back once he was done with an amused look. “I thought the point of having afternoon classes was that you wouldn’t be late.”

“The point was that I wouldn’t be late _because I’d overslept_. You underestimate how many other reasons I can find.”

She laughed, shaking her head. The professor was busy logging onto the computer at the front of the lecture hall and squinting at the screen, so they had a few minutes before he started speaking and they had to quiet down. Caitlin took them to say, in an innocuous tone, “I hear the football team just needs one more win to qualify for the championships.”

Barry breathed out a laugh. Given that she knew next to nothing about them, it was always weird talking to Caitlin about sports. Yet, she’d also gone out of her way to follow CCU’s football team since she’d found out about Len. She’d done the same thing when she’d first become friends with him and Cisco, who was one of the assistant coaches for the track team. She’d gone to every meet, paid careful attention every time they talked about it until she picked up on the terminology, and had been their biggest supporter the whole way through.

It was part of why he loved her so much. Caitlin was the kind of friend who always showed up for you, especially in the ways you didn’t know you needed.

“Really?” he asked.

She gave him a look. “You haven’t been following them?”

“I’m sure Len mentioned it,” he said, even though he wasn’t. “I’ve just had a lot going on lately.”

Caitlin hummed, scratching her pen against the holes in her notepad. She was clearly taking a moment to consider what she wanted to say before she said it. “How’s your thesis going?”

Barry’s thesis — which was due in less than three months and required a minimum of ninety pages — wasn’t going at all. He’d started it in September, as soon as he’d figured out what he was writing it on, and he’d gotten about ten pages in before he’d broken his leg and his life had seemed to go on pause. He’d tried to pick it up countless times since then, the looming deadline hanging over his head and making his stomach churn every time he thought about it, but he could never get past opening the document and staring blankly at the cursor blinking on the screen.

He couldn’t explain that to Caitlin. She had already finished hers and was in the revision and editing stage. Normally, he would’ve been right there with her, the two of them the kinds of over-achievers that spent six times as many hours on a project as everyone else and still finished it weeks before it was due. While he was certain she’d be kind and concerned, he also knew she wouldn’t understand.

“Good,” he assured her. “Almost done.”

She smiled. “Let me know when you finish. I’ll look it over for you.”

Barry smiled back but, thankfully, the professor chose that moment to get the projector working and he was saved from having to make any promises.

.

In the nearly three years they’d been together, Barry had missed a grand total of five of Len’s games. The first two were because he hadn’t known their boundaries and he didn’t want to throw Len off if he saw him in the crowd and panicked. After they discussed it and Barry realized how stupid it was to worry when there were literally thousands of people in the stands each game — showing up to watch one of the university's most beloved events like literally fifty percent of the student body wasn’t going to out him as Len’s boyfriend — Barry did his best to show up for every one, even though they both knew Len wouldn’t notice if he hadn’t. The other three he’d missed either conflicted with his classes or his own responsibilities to the track team.

At first, he hated them. He had no idea what was going on, the crowds were loud and obnoxious, and the most support he could show his boyfriend was a curt wave that garnered no response. It didn’t take long for him to grow to appreciate them, though. In fact, all it took was that grateful smile Len always showed him the day after, the way he kissed him like it meant the world that he’d been there, even if he was just another face in the crowd.

It was different now. In the months since another car had barrelled into him and taken the one thing that had gotten him through for so long, the experience had become coloured by longing. Longing for that rush he knew Len felt every time he caught the ball, racing down the field to the endzone. Longing for the burn behind his ribs, the shouts of his teammates, the thrill of crossing that line and bringing in another victory. God, what he wouldn’t give.

Caitlin made it more bearable, kept that hollow feeling in his chest from taking over when he watched Len score another touchdown. She was on her feet with the rest of the crowd in a heartbeat, shouting alongside them. Barry shook his head at her, clapping along.

“Barry!” she yelled, shaking his shoulder. “He won!”

He could barely hear her over the roaring of the crowd, but when he grinned, she grinned right back at him. The team was still celebrating down on the field, even as the audience started to settle. He and Caitlin stayed in their seats until the others had started trickling out and the team had finally calmed enough to start pulling off their gear on their way to the lockers.

Caitlin leaned into him, bumping his shoulder. Her smile was infectious, that pure joy she felt when she watched someone she cared about succeed. Barry copied it, but he knew his own was much less vibrant.

“Congrats,” she said. She tucked her hands into the pockets of her coat, trying to fend off some of the cold now that the adrenaline was starting to disappear.

“Congrats?” Barry scoffed, still smiling. “He’s going to be insufferable now. Last time he brought the team to championships I didn’t stop hearing about it for _months_.”

Laughing, Caitlin nudged his shoulder. “Please. Don’t tell me you’re not looking forward to a little private celebration.”

Barry laughed too, shaking his head at her again, but he couldn’t help the way his chest tightened. He let her loop her arm through his, joking all the way out to the parking lot where she’d parked the car, and kept a smile on his face no matter how forced it was.

It wasn’t until he was safely buckled in the passenger seat, watching the lights of the campus disappear in the side-view mirror as the radio whispered out pop tunes, that he let his thoughts catch up to him.

That was the way it was always going to be, wasn’t it? _Private_. He would never be allowed to celebrate with Len in public, to go down there and clap him on the shoulder or give him a hug like the other guys’ girlfriends did. He wouldn’t be able to kiss him, or sit in the first three rows of the stands, or wait outside the locker rooms for him so they could go home together after.

For three years, that had been fine. Barry wasn’t sure what had changed. Him, definitely. Probably the accident. It had changed a lot of things, even if most of them still looked the same.

Now, so well aware of how much shit the future could hold, he couldn’t help but wonder what kind of future he could have with Len. They’d be graduating in three months, thrown out into the real world where they would have completely different lives.

How would Barry fit into Len’s when he wasn’t allowed to be a part of it?


	2. Chapter 2

The apartment was quiet when Barry opened his eyes. That wasn’t unusual. He’d always been up before Len, with practices that started at dawn instead of dusk the way the football team’s did. In the three years they’d been together, and the two years that Len had had his own place, Barry had grown accustomed to waking in silence, turning over to throw an arm around his boyfriend, and spending a few extra minutes just being with him before he inevitably had to get up and get ready.

That morning, Barry turned over and found the bed empty. It took a moment for it to register, but when it finally did he pulled himself up immediately, the covers tangling around his waist. His eyes found the clock — 11:15 — and he realized Len must have left for class already.

He took a breath, running a hand through his hair. Resting his hand over his chest, he took another couple of breaths until he felt his heartbeat steady. It took all of two minutes and once he was done, he unplugged his phone from the charger and checked his messages. There weren’t any.

Getting out of bed, he went to take a shower before he left to go back to his place before his own class, which didn’t start for another three hours.

It was stupid, but Barry had never been accused of being sane. It was just that, since the injury had given him little reason to get up so early anymore, Len had always woken him before he left to plant a kiss on the corner of his mouth and tell him he was leaving. Barry couldn’t remember the last time he’d been caught off guard by waking up alone.

He shook it off. It had thrown him, but that was it. It didn’t need to be a thing.

.

Throughout the day, he couldn’t quite manage to shake it. There was this uncomfortable feeling in his stomach that had started when he woke up to an empty bed, and it stuck through his classes, through the two hours he spent studying with Caitlin and Cisco, and through his dinner that night with Len.

He thought about bringing it up, about asking why he hadn’t woken him, but every time he imagined saying it, he heard the way it sounded and decided against it. It was this stupid, tiny thing that wasn’t worth picking a fight over, especially when Len hadn’t done anything wrong. It had just been a weird start to his day that had stuck throughout it, and it would disappear when the day was over.

It didn’t. He lay awake, staring at the ceiling, the pulse of his heartbeat in his ears. Len slept soundly beside him, his back to Barry’s side, dead to the world after a long day of training and working on his final project. He’d been going to bed early all month. Usually, Barry joined him, lulled to sleep by the warmth of another body and the comfort of knowing Len was right there.

Tonight, he sat up, careful not to disturb him, and scrubbed a hand down his face. Then, as quietly as he could, he got up and crept out of the room towards the bathroom. When he got there, he closed the door behind him and turned the water on. Splashing some over his face, he pressed his palms to the counter and folded in on himself, staring at the floor until he had to shut his eyes.

When he was younger, in the months after his mom’s death, he used to get panic attacks all through the night. It happened every time he woke up, not quite aware of the world yet, only to be suddenly reminded that she wasn’t a part of it anymore. The loneliness had been stifling, but it had also been more than that. It was the feeling that he would always  _ be _ alone, that there would never be another morning where he woke up and it wasn’t true that she was gone.

Joe would always find him when it happened, mostly because he’d sit vigil outside Barry’s door from midnight to sunrise. He’d gently pull Barry’s hand to his chest and breathe deeply, the two of them sitting on the floor beside the bed until the panic faded. Then, he’d either curl up with Barry in his bed, his tiny body tucked right up against him so Barry could still feel his breathing, or he’d walk him down to the kitchen where they’d make hot cocoa and watch cartoons until Iris woke up.

Looking back on it now, hunched over in his boyfriend’s bathroom and feeling like the walls were closing in on him, that was probably when Barry’s abandonment issues had started.

“Fuck,” he muttered, getting down on the floor so he could put his head between his knees. His chest was tight, his stomach turning and his head foggy. He tried to breathe through it, but every time the air stopped thinning he’d catch sight of the scar on his leg and it would start all over again.

It hadn’t been this bad since first year. Since before track, and before Len, and before Caitlin and Cisco and everything good he had going for him now.

He felt so, so fucking stupid that all it took for the dam to break and him to fall under again was waking up without his boyfriend.

He sat on the floor for what felt like forever, sobbing into his hands when he gave up on trying to calm his breathing. The tap kept running above him, wasting water, but he couldn’t find the strength to reach up and turn it off.

When he finally did, he crept back into the bedroom with bated breath and red, puffy eyes that he prayed would disappear by the time they had to be up. Len was still thankfully asleep when he got there, though he’d turned over and his arm was now spread out across Barry’s side of the bed. He lifted it carefully, every muscle tensed in case Len woke up, and slipped underneath it. It tightened around him, pulling him closer.

So, he was drowning again. It was different this time, though, because he’d been here before. He knew better how to get his head back above water, where the footholds were that he could use to pull himself up. It wasn’t going to be like last time.

.

The morning after his midnight breakdown, Len woke him up early with gentle kisses along his shoulder, which turned into making out, which turned into sex. It wasn’t the kind of heated, almost desperate sex they often had, but the slightly rarer gentle, unhurried kind. Len kissed him deeper than he had all month, ran his hands up and down his sides like he was breathtaking, and afterwards held him close. Barry basked in it, letting Len rest his hand on his chest, fingers tracing the bumps and grooves of his sternum.

It was a much better start than the day before, and it stayed with him throughout the day. He was exhausted from spending half the night on the bathroom floor, and it was hard to pay attention in his lectures, but he felt less overwhelmed than he had all month. Maybe he’d just needed to get it out — have a good cry, fall apart for a minute, then pick himself back up and pull it together again.

In the lab they shared together, Cisco stared at him for five minutes before Barry gave him a look. He pursed his lips, but didn’t apologize. “You look tired, man,” he said, dropping his hand on Barry’s shoulder. “You good?”

Barry smiled, brushing off his concern. “I’m fine. Just a long night, you know.”

Immediately, Cisco’s expression morphed from worry to  _ oh, you sly dog _ . “Oh, I know. Athlete’s stamina, right? You guys can probably go forever.”

“Ew,” Barry replied, horrified. “Please don’t ever go all  _ bro _ on me again.”

“Yeah,” Cisco agreed, nodding. “You’re right. That was awful. Sorry, dude.”

Barry just snorted, shaking him off. He started gathering the pieces of their project — mechanics, one of the few courses the physics and computer science majors had in common. Cisco leaned back in his chair and pretended to get a very important text message so he wouldn’t have to help disassemble it all and sort it back into its bins at the back of the room. When Barry was finished, he suddenly lost interest in his phone and gathered his bag off the floor to walk out with him.

“Hey, actually,” Cisco stopped him just as they were leaving the room. “Before you go, I wanted to talk to you about something.”

Barry frowned, hoisting his bag higher up his shoulder. “What’s up?”

Hesitating, Cisco pressed his fingers into the flesh off his palm. “Well, you know we’ve made it to Nationals this year. And it’s the first year you… won’t be there, so we’ve all been kind of worried about it. I mean, we didn’t even think we’d make it at all. But, anyway, Coach wanted me to ask if you’d come back to the team. As an assistant coach. Since you basically did that already when you were on the team before. Only, this time you’d get paid. So, way better.”

Barry opened his mouth, then closed it. He shifted the strap of his bag again, turning his eyes to a spot just over Cisco’s shoulder as his frown deepened. It was the last thing he’d been expecting him to say and, from the way Cisco was looking at him, he knew that. Though he hadn’t stopped updating Barry on the team’s status, he’d started talking about it a lot less since it’d become apparent that it was upsetting him.

This was different though, of course. It was partly what Barry had wanted — to still be a part of that world — and it was everything that he needed. Last time his depression had reared its ugly head, it had been almost exactly this that had beaten it back down again. He could practically hear his old therapist’s voice in the back of his head telling him to  _ get involved, do something he enjoyed _ .

But he couldn’t bring himself to say yes. Instead, he took on an apologetic expression and said, “I don’t know, Cisco.”

“No, yeah,” Cisco waved a hand, trying to get rid of some of the awkwardness. “Of course, take some time. The offer’s always open.”

Barry hurried to explain, bringing a hand up to rub at the back of his neck. “It’s just that, you know, I have my thesis and, like, six research papers and I’m helping Caitlin with  _ her _ thesis. It’s just— A lot going on, man. That’s all.”

Cisco shrugged, nodding even though they both knew he didn’t believe him. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Barry smiled, tapping him on the shoulder as he made his way past. Cisco had another class on this floor he had to get to, but Barry was done for the day, so they parted ways there. It wasn’t until he was out of sight, heading down the stairs, that Barry realized that heavy feeling had crept back in while he wasn’t looking.

He ran a hand through his hair, trudging down the hallway as students cut in front of him to rush to their next class. He wasn’t sure what to think about Cisco’s offer, and he was even less sure how to feel, but what he did know was that every door he passed seemed even blurrier than the last.

Pulling out his phone, it took him a second to tap around enough to bring up his text thread with Len. He kept walking, tapping his thumb against the side of the screen as he debated what to type. They weren’t supposed to see each other tonight, and he knew Len had classes all day, but he also knew that if he could talk to him for just five minutes and remember the morning they’d had together, it might make some of this go away.

Gnawing on his bottom lip, he was just about to start typing when he glanced up and caught sight of Len across the hallway. He jolted to a stop, letting out a breath. When Len turned his head and caught his eye, Barry smiled at him. Len hesitated, then glanced away.

Of course. He was standing with two other guys from the football team, the three of them hovering off to the side and, from the looks of it, joking around in the time they had between classes. He couldn’t acknowledge Barry’s existence so long as they were there. He couldn’t even smile back, because of course that must mean that he was gay and sleeping with him. What was Barry thinking?

Shaking, Barry shoved his phone back in his pocket and went home.

.

“Hey,” Len greeted him the next day. He waited until Barry had closed the door behind him to kiss him, smiling into it and wrapping one arm around his neck, the other around his waist. “Missed you.”

“You too,” Barry said, instead of the three much more biting things he wanted to say. He smiled back only briefly, squeezing Len’s shoulder before pulling out of his grasp. Halfway into the kitchen, he called behind him, “Take out?”

Len shrugged his coat off in the hallway, brushing off the light layer of snow that had gathered. After he’d hung it up by the door, he came into the room behind Barry and leaned against the counter. “Actually, I was thinking maybe we could go out tonight. Get something nice? We haven’t had a real date in a while.”

‘A real date’ and ‘somewhere nice’ for them consisted of some extremely high end restaurant that took no less than an hour to get to, but Barry didn’t have the energy to point that out and start a fight when Len was doing something that, any other day, would have made him feel like he was falling in love all over again.

“Sure,” Barry said instead. He smiled much longer this time, drawing closer until he could rest his hands on Len’s waist. “That sounds really nice, actually.”

Bringing a hand up to cup his cheek, Len hummed. “Yeah? I was also thinking maybe next week we could do something with Caitlin and Cisco. Can’t remember the last time I saw them.”

Barry pulled back to give him a skeptical look. “I thought you hated going out with them.”

“Going out? Yes, definitely. Caitlin is the most embarrassing drunk I have ever met, and watching Cisco get rejected every ten minutes lost its appeal after the first twenty times it happened. I meant hanging out, getting coffee. A game night or something.”

“Yeah,” Barry agreed, laughing. “We should do that. No monopoly, though. You’re a filthy cheater and we all know it.”

“Me?” Len feigned disbelief. “Never.”

Barry snorted. “Right. Because you always follow the rules.”

“ _ Always _ ,” Len agreed, but he was laughing. He took a moment just to smile at him, then tilted his head forward and kissed him. Barry sunk into the kiss. He’d missed this — this light, warm air that enveloped them. He always missed this when Len wasn’t there, but more so now that it wasn’t always the way things were even when Len  _ was _ there.

When they stopped kissing, Len kept his forehead against his, their noses touching. “Let me go make a reservation,” he murmured. He dropped one last kiss to Barry’s cheek before he slipped away.

Barry watched him move into the living room, turning around to take his place against the counter. First the other morning, and now this. Not to mention that Len had called him last night and stayed on the phone for an hour, even though the reason they hadn’t been able to see each other was because he had a major assignment he needed to finish.

He couldn’t help but wonder what had brought this on. Not that Len never did anything nice, or was never this attentive and affectionate. It reminded him of the kind of consideration Len had shown in the first few months of their relationship, when everything was bright and all-consuming and they’d been basking in the rush of falling in love, completely obsessed with each other. Things had settled since then so their relationship was more comforting than exhilarating now. Big gestures and special nights, though they still happened, had lessened to give way to the warm dependency of having someone to fall asleep with every night, to come home to after a long day and just do nothing with.

Things had shifted again in the last few months, since Barry had recovered from his car accident. Fourth year was taking its toll on the both of them, as it did nearly everyone, and it was hard to make time for each other the way they used to.

Whatever had brought it on, Barry appreciated it. He wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth, and he also wasn’t going to sour it with all the bullshit he’d been putting on their relationship recently. This was what he’d been craving since his depression had started to sneak its way back into his life.

They were good, he thought, watching Len finesse his way into a last minute reservation. He was still as in love as he’d ever been.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this chapter xx I always appreciate comments <3


	3. Chapter 3

The game was progressing as usual: shouting from the coaches, screaming from the audience, and more and more aggressive tackles as both teams got more and more riled up. It was the last game they’d be playing here at the CCU stadium until near the end of the season, if they made it that far, and the first game of the playoffs.

Barry was watching from high up in the stands as per usual, rubbing his gloved hands together as he shivered in the cold. Cisco had elected to join them this time, so he was squished between Caitlin and Barry, complaining about the weather every ten minutes.

The early January chill had settled in quite comfortably, but no doubt none of the players on the field could feel it. In the stands, however, they were most definitely feeling it, even through the winter coats Caitlin had insisted they wear. They could see their breaths fanning out in the air in front of them.

Someone scored another touchdown and half the crowd rose to its feet, shouting. The scoreboard flipped over, adding one to their opponent’s count, and Barry pursed his lips.

“Wow,” Cisco interjected unhelpfully. “They’re getting  _ annihilated _ .” Caitlin shot him a look, but Barry just rolled his eyes and laughed.

They were, but he wasn’t worried. They were playing the best team in the league, but CCU were a close runner-up. They could make up the ground they’d lost in their next games, where they would most definitely sweep the floor with the other teams.

Barry was just getting ready to explain that — Cisco knew as little about football as he and Caitlin had three years ago — when a commotion below drew his attention. Everyone was shouting, and a fleet of CCU jerseys were flocking around someone in the middle of the field.

“What happened?” Caitlin sat up taller in her seat, grabbing Cisco’s arm.

Frowning, Barry stood up to get a better look. It was almost impossible when everyone else was also trying to get a look at what was happening. He managed to make out a stretcher being brought onto the field, and a group of three guys helping one of their teammates towards it. He was limping, one leg kept mostly suspended in the air as he leaned against his friends for support. Reading the number on his jersey, Barry’s heart stopped.

“It’s Len,” he said, and then immediately started pushing through the other people in their row to get out. He heard Cisco and Caitlin saying something behind him, but he didn’t stop to find out what it was.

He took the stairs down the stands two at a time, the clank of his friends’ shoes following right after. His breath was short. He could feel his heartbeat in his throat, choking off the air supply. It felt like the crowd had grown three sizes in the span of a minute, closing in on him and slowing down his mad dash through the stands. By the time he made it out of the arena, the game was starting back up behind him.

“Barry!” Caitlin called out to him. He froze at the edge of the parking lot, turning around. His friends were standing in the open doorway, looking out of breath, but Cisco let it close slowly behind them when he saw that Barry had stopped.

“Barry,” Caitlin said again, taking a couple steps closer. “Calm down. Where are you going?”

“I—” He stopped. He raked a hand through his hair. Where was he going? They would’ve either taken Len to the small office where they did the player’s physicals or, if it was more serious, to the hospital. He’d been heading towards the office, but what if he wasn’t there?

He could ask once he got there. It’d be a waste of fifteen minutes that could’ve been spent driving to the hospital but— 

But he couldn’t. If Len was there, some of his teammates would be with him, along with the assistant coach and the medical staff. What would he tell them? That he was just a very concerned friend? Either they’d assume he was a groupie and wouldn’t let him see him, or they would let him see him but it’d draw major suspicion to their relationship. And, either way, it wouldn’t matter. It would only upset Len.

Barry dropped his hand. “I don’t know,” he whispered. Then, a little more helplessly, “I don’t know.”

Caitlin crossed what was left of the distance between them to pull his hands into her own. “Hey,” she said, tilting her head so he was forced to meet her eye. He’d dropped his gaze to the ground, and he struggled to lift it with the way the pavement was spinning. She brought a hand to his cheek. “He’ll be fine. It didn’t look that bad. It’s probably just a sprained ankle.”

“Right.” Barry nodded. Then he swallowed hard and looked away, blinking fast. “What if it’s not? How would I even know?”

Caitlin sighed — the kind of long, deep sigh that someone gave when they were trying not to get the breath knocked out of them by concern. “Len will call you, and you’ll know, and you can deal with it then. It doesn’t do him any good to worry about that now.”

_ He’d call him _ . When he found a moment alone, which wouldn’t be until he was close to being discharged if it was serious enough to warrant a trip to the hospital. After his family had been called by the hospital staff, after they’d sat with him through surgery or whatever treatment he needed. After the worst of it was over and Barry had spent hours or even days unable to breathe because he had no idea what was going on.

Barry pulled out his phone, dialling Len’s number despite knowing he wouldn’t pick up. He didn’t, and Caitlin gave him another troubled look when he pulled the phone away from his ear to stare at the screen. Len’s contact picture stared back at him with sleepy eyes, flipping him the middle finger and a grumpy smile. 

“Cait, I…” But he couldn’t finish. Before he knew what was happening, his throat had closed up and he was crying. He felt himself being pulled against her, his head buried in the scratchy fabric of her coat. He fisted his hands into the back of it, clinging to her as he tried to get himself together. He couldn’t.

He wasn’t even sure what the reason was, anymore. Was it that Len was hurt? Or that he couldn’t see him because he wasn’t allowed into this part of his life? Was it because, three months ago, he’d woken up in a hospital with a cast on his leg and a doctor telling him he could no longer have the only thing he’d ever let himself rely on?

He forced that thought away. He’d been trying as hard as he could not to think about the weeks he’d spent laying in that bed, feeling like his life was spinning around him and he couldn’t keep hold of it. He’d been trying every day, all day, since he’d left, gone back to his old life and watched everyone around him pick right up where they’d left off, without him.

Barry felt a hand settle on his shoulder. “Hey, man,” Cisco said quietly. “I’m sure he’s fine. It really did look like he just messed up his ankle. Why don’t we go get some coffee and hang out until he calls?”

“Yeah,” Barry tried to say, but it got caught in his throat. He pulled away from Caitlin, wiping his cheeks with the back of one hand. He nodded at both of them. “Yeah, okay. Thanks, guys.”

Caitlin smiled, rubbing his back. “Don’t mention it.”

She looped her arm through his as they made their way to her car, Cisco grabbing the keys off her and rounding to the driver’s side. Barry spent the few minutes it took them to get organized trying to calm himself down, even out his breathing and ignore his sore eyes. Sitting in the passenger seat, he felt a jolt of phantom pain in his right leg.

He pressed the heel of his palm to the muscle of his thigh, trying to ease it away, but it didn’t help.

.

It was past midnight when Barry’s phone lit up with a call. He fumbled for it in the dark, the light hurting his eyes, and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Caitlin slept peacefully on the couch a few feet away, having decided to stay with him and Cisco for the night. She’d said she didn’t want to drive back to her place alone so late, but Barry knew she was really just here because she was worried about him.

“Hey,” he murmured into the phone once he’d padded out into the living room. He folded his free arm around himself, sinking onto the couch. A cushiony green pleather thing they’d bought off some graduating students for fifty bucks, it all but swallowed him.

“Hey,” Len murmured back. He sounded the way Barry felt; exhausted. There wasn’t any background noise trickling down the line, though, so it was safe to assume he wasn’t in the hospital. Barry wondered why he wasn’t more relieved. “I got your text.”

The text Barry had sent when he’d tried calling Len a few hours ago after they’d gotten back from Jitters, asking if he was alright. “Well?” Barry said, voice still soft. “Are you?”

Len let out a breath that sounded even louder through the phone. “I’m fine. I just twisted my ankle. It stopped hurting after ten minutes, but the team wouldn’t leave me alone all night. We went out for drinks to boost morale since we lost the game. Miserably. As I’m sure you saw.”

“Right,” Barry said.  _ Drinks _ . While he’d been here worried Len was irreparably injured, his boyfriend had been out drinking with his friends, having a good time.

Len was quiet for a moment. Then, “Are you mad at me?”

Barry sighed. He rubbed a hand down his face, then rested his elbow on his knee and leaned into his palm. “I’m not mad. I was just worried.”

Len spoke slowly, like he did when he was thinking something over thoroughly. “Well. Like I said, I’m fine. You didn’t need to worry.”

“How was I supposed to know that when no one told me you were okay?”

“Okay, you’re right. I’m sorry. What did you want me to do? You know I was with the guys. I couldn’t exactly say I needed to step out so I could call my  _ boyfriend _ .”

“You could have if they knew you had one.”

The line was dead silent for a long minute. Then, “What are you saying?”

Len’s tone was carefully even. It was the one he used when he was getting defensive, when he thought he might be about to fend off an attack. It was rarely directed at Barry, but he’d heard it enough times when he was on the phone to his parents or, more often, his sister.

Barry felt all the fight drain out of him. He sucked in a breath, trying to quell the wave of emotion rising inside him. “Nothing.” He dropped his hand from his forehead. “You should’ve texted, that’s all. I was really worried about you.”

“I’m fine,” Len said for the third time, but his voice had lost its edge and regained the softness it usually had when he was talking to his boyfriend. Barry’s chest ached and, deeper than that, something else threatened to overwhelm him. “Really.”

“Yeah, sure. I should go.”

“Yeah, sorry. I know it’s late. I—”

“Bye, Len,” Barry said, and hung up the phone. He threw it on the couch beside him, dropping his head into both of his hands and closing his eyes.

God, he was fucking tired.

.

“Are we okay?” Len asked him the next time they saw each other. It was four days after the game, during which Barry had managed to successfully stave off all of his requests to see him. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to — he did, but he knew that he wouldn’t be able to reign in that ugly part of him that had been taking over more and more often lately. Len’s enormous patience for him could only go so far and they would undoubtedly end up fighting. That was the last thing he wanted.

Len was the best thing he had going for him right now, but even that felt like it was slipping between his fingers. Like the thesis Barry still hadn’t touched, it seemed that the harder he tried to make things right, the worse he made them.

Tonight, they sat on the couch in Len’s living room. A long, unnecessary leather thing that had come with the place, like everything else. There were empty take out containers in front of them, out of place on the expensive wood of the coffee table. A truce offering that Barry had delivered hours ago with a half-smile and a look that he hoped conveyed that he’d gotten over himself and he didn’t want to talk about it. 

Either Len had missed the message entirely, or it hadn’t been convincing enough. 

Barry didn’t take his eyes off the paper in his hands; Caitlin’s thesis, which he was finally forcing himself to read over for her because he refused to let his friendships go to hell, too. “We’re fine.”

Len wasn’t reassured. The couch didn’t move when he shifted, turning to face Barry better, but the leather squeaked. He carefully bookmarked his place, then set his book aside. “Are you sure? Because lately it seems like you’re upset with me.”

“I’m not.” Barry didn’t look at him, but he also stopped pretending he was still reading. His eyes stayed fixed on the same spot on the page, his lips pursed.

“Barry,” Len sighed.

Barry sighed, too. He set the paper on the couch beside him, folding his hands together between his knees. “Fine. I am upset, but it’s not with you. I’m just… frustrated with the situation.”

“The situation.” Len didn’t look surprised. He sat sideways now, and rubbed a hand over his mouth before resting his arm on the back of the couch. “I am, too.”

Barry looked at him. He frowned. “You are?”

Len took a breath. “Yeah. And, actually, I’ve been thinking and I… I was wondering if you wanted to move in with me.”

“What?” Barry jolted around to face him. His stomach twisted into knots, the blood under his skin feeling like it had gotten three degrees hotter. He searched Len’s face, and found both nerves at having asked and confusion at Barry’s reaction. He opened his mouth and then closed it again. “Why?”

Len frowned. “What do you mean,  _ ‘why’ _ ? Because I love you? Because we’re together almost every night anyway? We’ll see each other more often, even when we’re busy like we have been all year. I thought you’d be happy.”

“Happy?” Barry shook his head. He turned away, resting his fingers on his chin and giving Len another look. He dug into the skin just under his cheek. “You haven’t thought this through.”

“I  _ have _ , that’s why I’m asking.”

“You’re not being realistic,” Barry countered. He dropped his hands. He felt like he’d all of a sudden been thrust onto a ledge, the world swaying beneath him as he teetered there, one wrong move away from falling. They’d never talked about this, not when they were being realistic. A comment here and there about  _ someday _ , but always in the abstract. He’d thought that it’d been there, between the lines, in the subscript, that it was impossible now like so many things were.

He drew in a breath, digging his nails into the flesh of his palms. “What happens when someone from the team comes over? Am I just kicked out of the house, or are you going to explain to them why some guy they’ve never heard of is living with you in a one bedroom apartment?”

Len’s expression morphed and he let out a breath, looking away. He pursed his lips, then opened his mouth, but he couldn’t figure out a response. Eventually, he shook his head. “I won’t have them over, then.”

“Right, because that’s the solution. Fucking unbelievable.”

“What do you want me to say?” Len had raised his voice, as he almost never did. “Fine, whatever. Don’t move in. We’ll find a place after we graduate. I just wanted to be able to keep a better eye on you.”

“Keep an eye on me?” Barry snapped. He could feel the anger simmering under his skin, tightening his muscles. The work he’d done to calm it over the last week, the last few months really, was undone in seconds. “What, because I’m going to go off and do something you don’t agree with? Because I need to be  _ monitored? _ I didn’t realize you didn’t trust me.”

“What?” Len scoffed. “No. It’s not like that. I’m  _ worried _ about you. You either don’t sleep or you stay in bed all day. You’re behind in everything. You’re at home all the time when you used to go out and, I don’t know,  _ do things _ . You don’t talk to me anymore and, when you do, it always seems like you’re pissed. I heard you the other night, in the bathroom. You’re not okay, Barry. Excuse me for being concerned.”

Barry gnawed on his bottom lip, trying to calm himself down. He stared at the TV on the living room wall, his hands clasped and his nails digging into the backs of his hands. There would be half-moons all over them, red against his pale skin.

“I’m at home all the time because I used to be on the track team, that’s what I was  _ doing _ , and I’m not anymore. And I seem pissed because I am  _ fucking pissed _ . Though, I’m not sure how you would know any of that since we’re barely in each other’s lives.”

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” Len demanded.

“Do you think maybe the reason we don’t see each other is because I’m not  _ allowed _ to see you eighty percent of the time? You can’t even act like you know me outside our apartments. We don’t talk because, eighty percent of the time, you can’t pick up your fucking phone because somehow that’ll tell everyone you’re gay.”

Len went still. “This is about me not being out?”

“What else would it be about?” Barry snapped.

Len looked away. He stared at the black screen of the TV, too. “You said you were okay with that.”

“I was. Three years ago.” Barry scrubbed his hands down his face. “But what’s the plan, Len? To hold off until we graduate? Until you’re in the pros? We both know it won’t be any different. Are we just going to live apart, lead almost completely separate lives, until you retire? I can’t live like that, Len.”

Len went quiet. They sat like that for a few minutes, in silence, Barry’s words hanging between them. Finally, when the tense air felt like it might drag on forever, Len reached for him. Barry pulled away, grabbing Caitlin’s thesis and standing up.

“I should go,” he said. He didn’t wait for Len to respond, even when he opened his mouth like he was going to.

The apartment door slammed shut behind him with a resounding _ thud _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed a hand-wavey description of football, of which I have never seen a game and know next to nothing about. I went off the college football wikipedia page, but if any of you find anything that's inaccurate, feel free to let me know!


	4. Chapter 4

The thing about Joe West that Barry both loved and hated was that he seemed to have a sixth sense for when his children were in need.

“I just wanted to check in on you,” he said. His voice was light and casual, but Joe had a way of sounding unexpectant even when he knew you were keeping secrets from him. He’d probably perfected it around the time he’d taken Barry in, over the many nights where he’d catch him sneaking in and out of the house. “I hadn’t heard from you in a while. How are things?”

Barry shifted the phone from one ear to the other, leaning back in his chair. He toed his foot against the leg of the desk, half-heartedly playing with the corners of his thesis outline. It sat innocuous in the centre of his desk, on display for the world to see how screwed he was that he’d barely written up the first bullet point.

“Good,” he said anyway. “Great. You know, fourth year.”

Joe hummed in agreement. “Fourth year, indeed. How’s that thesis coming? I better be one of the first to read it.”

Barry let out a laugh. “You’re not going to understand a single word.”

“That’s not the point,” Joe replied. “The point is to hold that thing in my hands and go ‘Look how smart my son is’. It’s more effective when it all goes straight over my head.”

Barry laughed again. He pushed the outline a little further away from him so he could rest one arm across the desk and stared at the crack in the wood that went diagonally from the bottom left to the upper right. It had been there since they’d dropped it during the move from Joe’s to his first apartment, and only grown on the move from that place to the one he now shared with Cisco. He dug his nail into it.

“So,” Joe said eventually. It was quieter this time. Rounder around the edges. “How are you really?”

Barry released a shaky breath, and then a soft snort. Sixth sense. “I’m good, Joe. Really. Things have just been a little rough lately.”

Joe made a noise of acknowledgement. “What things?” Then, when Barry hesitated to respond, “Is not being on the team this year still bothering you?”

Barry sighed. While he’d done his best to keep a brave face in the month after his accident, it’d been near impossible not to let it show how devastated he was. His friends had given him his space and let him insist that it was fine, but Joe had always had that knowing look about him every time Barry mentioned how much free time he had now without the team, or how he didn’t have to wake up so early anymore, or how it was great that Cisco and the others were going to Nationals this year.

He rubbed the back of his neck, pushing back in his chair again so he could stare at the rug a few feet away. “No. I mean, yes, but that’s not it. Actually, they offered me a job as assistant coach.”

“Oh?” Joe sounded both surprised and hopeful, but also like he was trying to keep it out of his voice. “Did you take it?”

“I haven’t decided yet.”

“Well, whatever you decide, they’d be lucky to have you.”

“Thanks.”

There was a lull in the conversation. He heard Joe moving around over the phone. “And how are things with Len?” he asked. His tone was light and easy, like it was just an off-hand question. Just ticking off the boxes, certain there was nothing there of any concern. He was probably expecting to hear about another embarrassing night out with Caitlin and Cisco, or about how the CCU football team was doing in the playoffs and how proud he was of his boyfriend, or what stupidly expensive restaurant Len had dragged him to this time.

Barry almost didn’t tell him. He almost said everything was fine, as it always was, or that they were as good as they’d ever been. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to lie. He was so tired that the weight of the world felt ten times heavier, and he’d spent the last week ignoring the three texts Len had sent while also hoping he would call. He hadn’t. Barry wasn’t sure if he was disappointed or relieved.

“It’s…” He swallowed. “They’re kind of a mess, honestly.”

“What?” The movement had stopped, and Joe sounded worried. “What happened? I thought you guys were good. Amazing, even.”

“We are. We were. We—” He let out a shaky breath. “I don’t know. We had a massive fight. We haven’t talked since.”

“What was it about? Did he do something?”

“No, he— I don’t know. It was about a lot of things,” Barry told him quietly. Then, because he hadn’t stopped thinking about it since he’d started thinking about what kind of future he and Len could possibly have, “Does it bother you that you haven’t met him?”

“Oh, Barry,” Joe seemed taken aback. He took a long minute before he responded, the way Joe always did when he knew what he said was going to matter. “I’m not going to lie, it does sometimes. I mean, three years of him being all you talk about? Of course I want to meet him. But I also respect that that’s your choice, and that it’ll happen when it happens. I may not ever truly understand, but I know it’s probably hard for him, not being out and all.” He paused. “Is that what this is about?”

“Yeah,” Barry sighed. “Well, partly. It’s just that he talks like we’re going to be together forever, but how are we supposed to build a life together when our lives are so completely separate? No one in his life knows I exist. And maybe I could understand that. I don’t know. His family might be homophobic or something and I get that. But he won’t even meet my dad, who he knows doesn’t have a problem with it, and who already knows he’s my boyfriend? And I can’t even meet his friends as a  _ friend? _ It’s like I’m not allowed to exist to him at all outside his apartment.”

“Does he know that it bothers you? Have you talked about any of this with him?”

“That’s part of what we were fighting about.”

“But did you  _ talk  _ about it, or were you just yelling at each other without hearing what you were saying? Without asking any questions?”

Barry hesitated. “I don’t know. A bit of both?”

Joe let out a long breath. “Listen, son. Why don’t you come home for a bit? You’ve got your reading week coming up soon, don’t you? Come down, take some time away from everything, regroup a little. I’m sure your sister would love to see you. Though, be warned she’ll probably rope you into modelling for that photography course she’s taking.”

Barry thought about it. He looked at the laundry he had piled up in the corner, and the thesis on his desk, and remembered how much spoiled food there was in his half of the fridge despite Cisco having cleaned it out for him a couple weeks ago. He looked down at the clothes he hadn’t changed in two days, felt that exhaustion settled deep in his bones, and remembered falling apart in his boyfriend’s bathroom in the middle of the night, clutching at his chest, at the counter, at what little there was left in his life that felt stable.

“I don’t know,” he said. He thought about that night they’d spent at the hospital in first year, when a call in the middle of the night had had Joe racing across the city to get to him. Joe had only left his side when the doctors came in to talk to him, the same way he hadn’t left his side after the car accident. He should’ve met Len then, but Len hadn’t gotten the call until two days after, when Barry had finally convinced Joe to go home and get some proper rest for the night.

“Barry.” Joe’s voice was quiet, like he was trying not to scare him. “I know that there’s more going on than just a fight with your boyfriend. Come home, please? We don’t have to talk if you don’t want to, and I promise I’ll give you your space, but I’d feel better knowing you were here.”

“I’m an adult,” Barry said without any bite. “I can take care of myself.”

“I know that. But that doesn’t mean you can’t have help.”

It was the worry in Joe’s voice that got him. As much as he didn’t want him to know how bad it really was, he also knew that Joe had already guessed. He knew how much that night four years ago had scared him, more than it had probably scared Barry himself.

“Okay,” Barry murmured finally. He stared down at the crack in his desk. “Okay, I’ll come home. That’d be really nice, actually. I miss you.”

He could hear Joe’s exhale of relief. “I miss you too, kid.”

 

.

 

In the four years since he’d moved out, nothing much had changed about the West house. A couple of things had swapped places, like which kitchen cupboard they kept the tupperware containers in, and Barry’s room was drastically different with most of his furniture gone, but otherwise it remained the same.

“The futon’s all set up in your room for you,” Joe told him as he closed the door behind them. 

Barry set his bag on the floor to shrug off his coat. “Thanks.”

Joe smiled, then left him to sort out his things. While he unpacked his bag and brushed the dust off his dresser, Barry could hear him pattering about in the kitchen, cooking something up.

He took a moment to sink down on the futon. He ran his hand over the sheets — blue and grey plaid that had been in this house longer than Barry had. He’d missed this. He hadn’t known how much he’d missed it until he was here, in his childhood bedroom, staring at chips in the paint that were so familiar he knew them all by heart.

On the wall behind the futon was a drawing of a flower, an iris, that he and Iris had done when they were twelve and decided they were going to be best friends forever. There was a chip in the floorboards beside the closet where he’d thrown his phone when he was fourteen and found the Facebook page some kids at his school had made to make fun of him. On the side of the dresser, notches ran up in uneven lines for each anniversary of his mother’s death that had passed.

The last time Barry had come, over the summer, there had been a cork board above the dresser with all of his track and field medals. He’d given them to Joe for safekeeping, and because he couldn’t help but bask in the pride that always had Joe tearing up when he heard how he’d placed.

The corkboard wasn’t there anymore, and neither were the medals. In their place, Joe had hung the god-awful painting they’d all done together for family day eight years ago.

Barry clasped his hands together in his lap, rubbing his thumb into the flesh of his fingers. For the first time in years, he let himself look at his wrist. There was a scar there, so light it blended into the colour of his skin. It was nothing like the one on his leg, which ran from the top of his calf to below his ankle and was a raised, twisted, ugly thing where part of the metal of the car had nearly gone straight through. Yet, it hurt just as much to look at.

He’d never told Len about that night. He’d never told anyone but Iris, and that had been two years after the fact when he’d had her in his arms, crying that she barely knew anything about him anymore. That had been its own kind of wake-up call — a reminder that he wasn’t the only one who suffered when he struggled, that the people around him weren’t as oblivious as he thought they were, and that pulling away to hide how much he was hurting only ever ended up hurting even more in the long run.

Now, sitting in his childhood bedroom, gone two weeks not having spoken to his boyfriend and feeling like there was a fifty pound weight in his chest every time he looked at that ugly painting, Bary wondered when he’d forgotten that.

That was how it worked, though, wasn’t it? It crept up on you when you weren’t looking and by the time you thought to do anything, it had taken over everything. 

“Barry! Dinner!”

With a sigh, he pulled himself off the mattress and went to go join Joe at the table. As soon as he opened his bedroom door, he could smell the familiar scent of Joe’s famous mac and cheese. It had become a traditional comfort food in their house when Barry first moved in, and he had to stop for a second to fight back the sudden stinging of his eyes. He hadn’t realized how much he’d needed this.

He was just about to continue downstairs when someone came out of the living room. Before he had even blinked, he was down the stairs and clinging fiercely to an ostentatious yet fashionable sweater with a noseful perfume.

“Iris,” he gasped, squeezing her hard.

She laughed. “You’re crushing me.”

Barry let her go immediately, but not far enough that he couldn’t keep hold of her arms, looking her over. The last time he’d seen her, he’d been bored out of his mind in the hospital bed and she’d been wearing no makeup, camped out in the chair beside him trying to convince him to play ‘I spy’ with her.

She smacked his arm, hard, and he winced. “That’s what you get for not coming home for Christmas. I missed you, you idiot.”

“I missed you, too,” he said, smiling. He kissed her temple. “I promise I’ll make it up to you. I’m here all week. We can hangout, listen to Abba, make shitty art. Like old times.”

“First of all, Abba so isn’t in anymore. We’ll be listening exclusively to Britney Spears. And  _ my _ art is amazing. Speak for yourself.”

Barry laughed and she laughed, too. Though they’d drifted apart their first year of college, not living under the same roof or going to the same school anymore, they’d drifted back together the summer after second year. He hadn’t come home, electing to stay and spend time with Len and his friends, and she’d called him two weeks in to tell him that she missed him. They’d both ended up crying, and he’d driven home the next day. A couple long talks later, they were closer than they’d ever been.

He’d let that slip, too, lately. He hadn’t called her in weeks. Hadn’t told her anything that mattered in months.

After dinner, when they were sitting on the couch, sipping hot cocoa that Joe had made and then left for them when he got called to the station, Barry found himself just looking at her. She hadn’t changed. She was still vibrant, full of life — the first girl he’d ever had a crush on, no matter how short-lived it was.

There were some things there that hadn’t been before. The engagement ring that kept catching the light, a mark of her two year relationship with Eddie. The certainty, more than just confidence, that had formed over the last few years of independence. The understanding that had been there since Barry had finally opened to her, and that had strengthened after the accident, despite him closing off again.

For the longest time, she had been his only friend. Then, she had been his sister. Even now, with so much distance between them, sitting across from her felt like sitting across from his best friend.

“Hey,” he said quietly, after they’d been talking for hours about everything but what he’d been avoiding since October. “Could we talk sometime? Not tonight, but… Before I leave? I miss you, and I’m sorry I’ve been so distant.”

“Barry.” She reached across the couch to rest her hand on top of his. “You’ve had a lot going on. It’s alright, really. I can’t imagine what you’re going through. And I’m here, whenever you’re ready. I know I’m not the most patient person in the world,” Barry snorted. It was an understatement, “but I can wait as long as it takes for you to be able to talk about it. I promise I’m not holding it against you.”

“I know,” Barry said. He turned his hand over underneath hers and laced their fingers together. “Thank you.”

She smiled at him, and they cuddled up together to watch a movie after a quick trip to the kitchen to brew some more hot cocoa. It was what they’d been doing since they were kids, even before they’d been siblings. Dragged all the blankets down to the living room, their tiny bodies buried under them, spilling cocoa and marshmallows everywhere. Joe always found them in the morning, shaking his head and kissing each of their foreheads as he tucked them in and cleaned up the living room.

For the first time in weeks, Barry let himself have this. He didn’t think about the work he had to do, or about the boyfriend he still had to talk to, or the friends who were worried about him, or the team that was going on without him. He curled up with his sister, put on some thirty-year-old Disney flick, and let himself take childish comfort in the moment.

 

.

 

The next morning, Barry was woken by his phone vibrating violently on the coffee table. He rubbed his eyes, glancing over at it. With a quick check of the caller ID, he untangled himself from Iris and the blankets Joe must’ve pulled over them when he got home.

“Hey,” he said into the speaker as he started making his way upstairs to his old room. His voice was still rough with sleep. He cleared his throat, checking the time. It was noon.

“Hey,” Len replied. He didn’t sound much better, but Barry doubted it was from being woken up. Len was always awake before ten.

It was strange to hear his voice after so long without it. He hadn’t gone so long without talking to him since the first few months of their relationship. Even if it was just a quick five minute call at the end of the day, they had always managed to find the time.

Barry’s stomach churned as he closed the door. He sat down on the futon, which hadn’t been slept in, and wrapped his free arm around himself. There was the chip in the floor, the notches on the wood of the dresser, the painting above it. He stared at them each in turn, and then settled his eyes on the painting — a mess of colours and obvious brushstrokes that he was pretty sure were supposed to be flowers, or birds.

After a long few minutes of silence during which they each waited for the other to say something, Len finally bit the bullet. “It’s nice to hear your voice,” he murmured, soft enough that it was like he was afraid to disturb the tiny peace they’d managed to find.

Barry swallowed. “Yours too.”

Len sighed. “I don’t like the way we left things.”

_ The way they’d left things _ . When he’d asked him to move in with him and Barry had stormed out of his apartment after blowing up on him, everything that had been bothering him lately all coming to the surface at once. He heard Joe’s voice in the back of his mind, telling him they needed to talk about it properly without shutting down or blowing up.

“Me neither,” he said. Then, because it was always true no matter how they’d left things, “I miss you.”

A shaky breath came down the line, sounding relieved. “I miss you too.”

Another beat of silence passed. Barry dug his fingers into his side. “We should talk.”

“Yeah.” Len let out another breath. “I’m sorry if it seemed like I was throwing everything you’re going through in your face. That’s not how I meant for it to come out. I really am just worried about you. I didn’t realize it was bothering you so much, not being able to race anymore. Or… me not being out, I guess.”

“That’s not the part that’s bothering me, Len. I don’t want you to come out if you’re not ready. If it’s not safe. I just… I don’t understand why I can’t be  _ anything _ to you. I don’t understand why you’re trying so hard to keep everything so separate. You know you haven’t even met my family? It’s been three years, Len. And it can’t be because you’re not out, so what is it?”

“That’s not fair. I wanted to meet your dad. I  _ tried _ to meet him. When you were in the hospital, remember? We just missed each other.”

“And the three years before that? The million times I’ve asked you to come have dinner at the house with me?”

“Barry, that’s— It’s just never worked out, timing wise.”

“It’s just never worked out, or you’ve never wanted it to?”

“And why wouldn’t I want it to, since you seem to know everything that I’m thinking?” Len sounded exasperated.

“Maybe because you’re only halfway in this? You want to be able to get out whenever you can, cut ties like it’s nothing. Which isn’t as easy after you’ve met my family or introduced me to your friends.”

“That’s not—” Len cut himself. “You know what, no. When have I ever given you any reason to think I’m not  _ in _ this? _ I _ asked  _ you  _ to move in with me, remember? You’re the one who said no. Or did you selectively forget that like you’re selectively forgetting how every time you’ve asked me to come to dinner, I’ve had valid reasons not to.”

“You asked me to move in with you  _ so you could keep an eye on me _ . You didn’t even stop to think it through.”

“I asked you to move in with me because I love you, and I want to spend more time with you and you know what? Yeah, because I’m worried about you. And because I love you and I’m worried and I can’t imagine a future without you, I didn’t think it through.”

“You can’t imagine a future without me?” Barry laughed, but it was sad and tired. Half-hearted. He scrubbed a hand down his face and dropped his voice. “What does that future look like, Len?”

Len was quiet for a moment. “I don’t know. We’ve never really talked about it, Barry. Not in detail. I just know I want us to be together, however that looks.” He paused. It dragged on so long it felt like a noose, suffocating. “Do you?”

Barry didn’t answer right away. He stared at the painting, the blue that morphed into an ugly, messy brown halfway down the canvas. He closed his eyes, pressing his palm to them, and tried to breathe through the pain in his chest.

His voice was so quiet he wasn’t sure Len heard him when he said, “I don’t know.”

He heard Len’s shaky breathing on the other end of the line. It sounded like he’d been struck, the breath knocked out of him, and it only made Barry dig his hand in harder, trying to hold back the tears he could feel welling in his eyes.

“Oh,” Len said, sounding wrecked but like he was trying not to show it. “Okay. Call me when you figure it out, then.”

He hung up. With the dial tone in his ear, Barry put his face in his hands and sobbed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of my favourite chapters, but also one I struggled a little bit with because it's such a pivotal moment. Here's hoping it came out the way I wanted it to!


	5. Chapter 5

Joe found him hours after the tears had stopped. He didn’t say anything at first. The only thing to indicate his presence was the creaking of the door he closed behind him, and his footsteps on the floorboards as he crossed the room to the futon.

At some point, Barry had curled up on his side, one hand fisted into the pillow and the other underneath it. He didn’t look at Joe, even when he sat down beside him. Instead, he stared at the lines that climbed up the side of his old dresser. Had it really been that long?

“Come on,” Joe said softly, his hand on his shoulder. “I’ll make you some hot chocolate.”

Barry gathered himself off the futon. Joe gave him the time he needed to wipe at his face, though the tears had dried uncomfortably to his cheeks a long time ago, then guided him down the stairs the way he used to when Barry was eleven and still grieving his parents.

He felt that old ache now. Behind his sternum, where he kept all the pain that had started the night his mother died. Sitting on the front stoop of the West house with Joe, nursing a warm mug and feeling like the world had ended a while ago and he was only just realizing it, he missed her now more than ever.

Joe didn’t press. He never did, not since months of taking Barry to see a child psychiatrist had taught him that no good came from talking when you weren’t ready. He hadn’t forgotten that, even when Barry had called him, unintelligible and crying, in the middle of the night his first year in college and even when Barry had spent weeks in the hospital, staring out the window at the sky and not saying a word. Joe was always there, through everything, but he never pushed for more than Barry could give.

“I think,” Barry started. Then, after swallowing away some of the roughness of his throat, “I think it might be over. With Len.”

Joe didn’t look at him, and Barry was grateful. He didn’t think he could handle being observed right now, knowing all he would see were red eyes and the dark bags underneath them that hadn’t gone away in months. Barry knew that hindsight was everything, but it seemed impossible now that he could have missed so many signs. Denial was a powerful weapon, and somehow it had levelled his life beneath his feet.

“I also…” Barry paused. He swallowed hard, blinking quickly as he turned to stare at their neighbour’s mailbox. It had small hand-painted flowers sprouting up the side, alternating yellow and purple. “I also think I’m not doing so well. I think it’s getting bad again. Like before.”

_Before_. He didn’t have to say it for Joe to understand. While they almost never mentioned it, neither of them would probably ever forget it. Barry had the scar to remind him, and Joe had the fear.

Joe wrapped an arm around his shoulder, pulling him closer. Barry sucked in a breath and kept staring at the flowers, even when they started to swim in front of him.

“It’s okay,” Joe whispered half into his hair. “It’s okay, son. I’ve got you. We’ll figure this out, alright?”

“How?” Barry’s voice was shaking and full of breath. “It’s different, Joe. It’s not just in my head this time. It’s— Everything really _is_ fucked.”

Joe spoke very carefully, the way he often did. “I know it feels that way. But, Barry. There is so much good in your life. I know you can see that, too, even if you can’t feel it.

“You have so many people who love you. You’re so close to finishing your degree and starting that job at S.T.A.R. labs you’re always going on about. You’ve got that big, beautiful brain of yours that pulls these crazy, amazing ideas out of nowhere. You still have the track team, if you want it, even if it’s not in the way you would’ve liked. You have that trip with your friends you’ve been looking forward to since last year. Your friends who would do anything for you. You have _us_. Always.”

“I have a boyfriend who I’ve been making feel like shit for not being able to come out, because I’m a horrible person who said I was okay with it, and then changed my mind when it was too late for him to get out without getting hurt.”

“ _Barry_.” Joe squeezed his shoulder harder, pulling away to look him in the eye. “You went through a trauma. You lost something. It’s normal for your life to look different now, to feel differently about things. And I’m not saying you and Len don’t have real issues you need to work through, but maybe part of what’s making it feel like the end is the way you’ve already been feeling since the accident.”

Barry wiped at his eyes with his sleeve. He rested his hands in his lap, staring down at his leg. It felt wrong to see it now, looking perfectly fine when the scar was hidden underneath his sweatpants. It had been the start of this downwards spiral that left him spinning out of orbit with everything else in his life, and yet so much of the time it seemed like an invisible wound.

The hospital had done follow-up after his accident. He’d gone to physical therapy for his leg and, to a lesser extent, his back twice a week for nearly two months. He’d seen his old therapist almost as soon as soon as he’d been discharged, at the recommendation of his doctor.

Things were different then. He’d gone to one session with her where he told her he was making great progress with his leg and he was glad to have the support of everyone around him, especially his boyfriend. After that, he hadn’t gone back.

That was before it had really sunk in that he wouldn’t be able to race again. Despite what the doctors had said, he’d held out hope through physical therapy until it reached its end and he was forced to confront the reality that his leg was never going to be what it used to.

Part of him still hadn’t accepted it. It was part of the weight that had been sitting on his chest for months now, made heavier with every game of Len’s he went to and every time he listened to Cisco talk about how the team was going on without him. It was the part of him that couldn’t let go, that kept looking back and wishing with everything in him that it could be that way again. Every time something changed, every time his life tried to move forward away from that point, he resisted.

He was doing that with the assistant coach offer from Cisco. He was doing that with his thesis. He was doing that with his future, which he hadn’t dared to think about beyond graduation until the present got so unbearable that it was all he could focus on.

And because he was doing that with so much of his life, he was doing the exact opposite in the one area of his life that _wasn’t_ changing. That part was Len, who had always been stable — a steady constant in his life the way track used to be.

“It’s not just that,” he realized finally. “I think at first, it was. I was angry about everything and I needed somewhere to point all of it, and Len was the only thing left that didn’t feel like it’d been ruined. But then the more I thought about it and the more angry I was, the more reasons I found to be upset about it. That’s the problem, Joe. There _are_ reasons. It never bothered me before because I was so good at just not thinking about it, at just focusing on all the good things and getting so wrapped in him that any issues didn’t matter so much.

“But I can’t do that anymore. You’re right. I’ve had to completely re-evaluate my life since the accident. Everything I thought was solid, everything I thought I knew for sure isn’t the same anymore and I’ve had to figure out how my life looks now that everything is different. Part of that is looking at the future and, when I do, I just can’t see how this works. Or, I can, and I can’t see myself being able to live like that.”

They sat in silence for a long while after that, thinking. Barry stared at the chalk drawings on the sidewalk in front of the neighbour’s house, and then at the plastic playhouse in front of the West’s that had been there so long the ground had started to swallow it.

“You can’t see the future, Barr,” Joe said carefully. He took the now cold mug from Barry’s hands and set it to the side. “You don’t know what it’s going to be like ten years from now. The world could change significantly. Maybe it’ll be safe for him then. Maybe he won’t even be playing anymore. Or maybe you’ll figure out a way to balance it all, and it won’t be an issue anymore.”

Joe took a deep, long breath. When Barry looked at him, he was reminded of how much life Joe had lived before him. It was easy to forget that sometimes, to see only the man who had raised him like his own son or the cop who spent late nights helping everyone he could and to forget that he had been other things, too. He’d been a devoted friend to a man who was now serving life in Iron Heights. He’d been a kid without all the answers, just trying to fight his way through college and come out the other side with a purpose in life. He’d been a husband, once.

“You think I should let this go?” Barry asked.

Joe shook his head. “I think you should figure out what’s most important to you, and go from there. If that’s having someone who can be there for you twenty-four seven, regardless of whether you’re at home or in public, if that’s what you need right now, then you should talk to Len. Maybe there’s some middle ground you can find that works for both of you, or maybe there’s not. But if you’re not happy with him, if you don’t think you _can_ be happy with him, and you can’t see yourself with him down the line? Then I think you have your answer.”

Barry was quiet, staring at the wood beneath his socked feet. His heart beat a staccato rhythm in his chest, the steadiest thing about him.

“Yeah,” he said, without looking up. “I guess I do.”

 

.

 

On Tuesday, Barry and Iris went for a drive. They used to do this when they were seventeen — sneak out in the early hours of the morning when the sun was shy and hadn’t peaked over the horizon yet, take the beat-up sedan Joe bought them when they passed their driver’s tests, and weave through rows upon rows of identical houses until they’d left the suburbs behind.

In those days, their stress had come from having to decide where they were going to go to college. The roughness of Barry’s throat and the heavy, black pit behind his sternum had always come second to life, there only to be pulled out and examined in the late hours of the night when he couldn’t sleep and found himself staring at the side of his dresser or the picture of his mother that sat on top of it.

He had gotten tired sometimes then, too. The world had always felt heavier to Barry than it seemed to everyone else, like he was the only one who wasn’t in on the secret to being happy regardless of what came your way.

It was different then in that it had been a contained despondency. It was solid in his chest, unlike the syruppy depression that had overtaken him in college. That was molasses, a thick tar that spread and spread and spread and seeped through every crack. Unlike how he’d felt in his teenage years, it hadn’t stopped until it was so thick he couldn’t breathe around it.

Now, Barry wondered if it had really changed so much or if, in those days, he’d just been better at pretending.

They parked by the quarry that had served as the prime party location in Central City for twelve years of teenage rebellion. Iris still hadn’t figured out how to parallel park, despite how long it’d been since she got her license, so they pulled up onto the grass in front of the no trespassing sign. Sneaking over the gate that blocked off the only safe way down to the water, it was almost like they were teenagers again.

It looked different in the light. The water was a thick green, pooled at the bottom of the swirling cuts in the rocks that climbed up to the forest they’d dug it out of. In the February chill, a thick layer of ice had settled on its surface. The broken glass that littered the area glittered under the sunlight, cigarette butts blending into the dirt until you got too close. They hadn’t had snow in a week, but there was a layer of frost that gave everything a twilight feeling.

“We missed you at Christmas,” Iris told him when they found a tall rock to sit on, her feet dangling over the water and one of his kicked up to rest his elbow on.

“Yeah, sorry.” Barry ran his thumb along a groove in the rock, white dust coming away on his fingertips. “I was just… still adjusting.”

“I know.” Iris smiled at him, resting her hand on his arm. “It’s okay. I just wanted you to know that we miss you when you aren’t here. We don’t mind spending time with you, you know. As annoying as you can be.”

Barry snorted. “I don’t mind spending time with you, either.”

They fell into silence, the trees high above casting shadows on the water that danced beneath their feet. It was so different to the nights they used to spend here in high school. Then, the chirping of the birds was replaced by the pounding of a bass through whatever shitty speakers someone had brought. There were no shadows on the water — everything was already in shadow, bathed in darkness so all you could make out were the flicker of lighters catching cigarettes and the outlines of bodies buzzing with the thrill of doing something they shouldn’t.

Barry had liked it more than Iris had, and had come more often, that feeling of having been a part of something sticking with him through the morning long after the party was over.  He’d smoked his first joint up there by the gate, gotten drunk for the first time down here by the water, had his first kiss right here on this rock.

Len had loved that story. He’d loved the idea of a baby-faced Barry, naive and uncertain, sneaking out after his curfew to pretend to be a rebel for a couple of hours while his significantly more defiant sister rolled her eyes and told him it was stupid. He’d said it was easy to imagine.

Len’s first kiss had been with Rosa Dillon his junior year of high school in front of nearly the entire school after they’d won the third game of the season. He’d gotten drunk for the first time at eleven on a bottle of vodka he’d stolen from his dad, sitting in his bed, praying he wouldn’t come home that night — or any other night. He’d smoked his first joint with his high school best friend on the back porch of his adoptive parents’ steps while his little sister helped them make dinner ten feet away.

There were so many things about Len that he would never be able to unlearn. There was a part of Barry’s heart that would always be devoted to him — that would always pick up pace when he thought about the way Len had kissed him for the first time in the locker room of the skating rink ten minutes from the university, or when he remembered how nervously Len had touched his hand in the dark of the movie theatre, or that smile that was only ever so tender when it was pointed at Barry.

Barry would wonder when they’d lost that, but the part of him that hadn’t been coloured by this depression knew they never had.

“Hey,” Iris said, pulling him out of his thoughts. She nudged his shoulder. “Don’t disappear on me.”

He smiled at her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders with a murmured apology. He couldn’t count the number of times she’d asked that of him. He’d always been that way — overwhelmingly present until suddenly he’d vanished into himself, unreachable. Barry’s walls weren’t solid the way other people’s were. They shifted, rearranging themselves so you were only shut out when you were most desperate to be let in.

“Sorry,” he murmured. Then, because he’d promised himself he would talk to her, “I’ve been struggling lately. A lot.”

Iris hummed, but didn’t interrupt, so he took that as an invitation to continue. “I’ve fucked up pretty much every part of my life. I haven’t talked to anyone on the team since I quit. I haven’t touched my thesis in months and it’s probably too late to finish it on time. I feel like I barely know any of my friends anymore and it’s completely my fault because I’ve been shutting them out. And me and Len are just a complete fucking mess.”

Iris wrapped her arm around his waist, underneath where he was still holding her. She set her head on his shoulder. “I’m sure if you talked to Caitlin, she could help you with your thesis. It’s not due for — what? Two months? I know it’s a lot of work, but there’s still time.”

“Yeah,” Barry sighed. “Yeah, I know.”

She rubbed his back. “Your friends are still there, Barry. All you have to do is reach out.” She caught the look on his face and added, “I know, easier said than done. But, still. You managed with me. And with Dad. I’m sure you could with Caitlin and Cisco, too. You know they’d never judge you for what you’re going through.”

Above them, a bird called out in the forest. He looked up into the twisted branches of the trees that would start their journey of rebirth in a month, when spring came to breathe new life into them.

“The accident—” Iris started, but Barry cut her off.

“It wasn’t the accident,” he said. He remembered the broken glass, the thick fog that had permeated the car through the shattered windshield, the eerie stillness that had overtaken him even as the pain signals finally reached his brain. “It’s everything that came from it.”

That was the part that no one else had understood. Len had spent hours figuring out how to help someone cope with trauma, bookmarking websites and always pulling the doctors aside when they came to check on Barry. He’d been so careful driving him home from the hospital, a watchful eye on him each time they hit a red light or paused at a stop sign.

While the trauma of that night had been real and enduring, manifesting in nightmares that left him thrashing in his hospital bed and in cold sweats the first dozen times he got in a car, that wasn’t the worst part of it. The worst had been the overwhelming sense of loss he’d been feeling ever since, like some part of his life had died on the road that night and he was trying to figure out how to grieve without realizing the extent of the damage.

Barry’s life was split into a series of before and afters: his mother’s death, switching schools to escape the bullying, his first semester of college, track, the accident. And now this: sitting with Iris in the place they used to come to get drunk and feel like a part of something insignificant but bigger than themselves, shivering in the cold but not ready to leave.

There was the before — spiralling into a deep depression slowly enough for no one to notice until suddenly he’d spun too far to crawl back out. This was the during, he thought. Everything suspended, a wire pulled taught, all awaiting action. He wondered what the after would look like.

_What’s most important to you?_

Barry didn’t know. There was a grey cloud over everything that kept it all from feeling significant, from mattering to him the way it should.

Doing something he loved for a living, maybe? He had that with S.T.A.R. labs and the job they’d offered him after he graduated, coming off the tails of his internship there the past summer. His family, for sure. Iris and Joe and the warmth he felt when he knew that they were happy. Track, not that that mattered anymore.

Len, too. Kissing away the tense set of his shoulders when he got off the phone with his parents. Rolling over in the morning to wrap his arm around his waist and rest his head against his chest. Knowing he just had to make it through the day, through whatever it was that felt endless, because at the end of it he could curl up with his boyfriend and make stupid comments until Len gave up on the book he was trying to read and wrestled him down on the couch, pretending to be annoyed but unable to fight a smile.

He thought about the future and, this time, forced himself to go beyond the dark tunnel his insecurity had molded. What did it look like?

S.T.A.R. labs, or something else that felt as monumental. Kids, someday in the very distant future. Moving out of Central City a few years down the line, once there was enough left behind for Joe not to miss him too much. Maybe a masters degree when he inevitably started to feel like there was too much left to know that he couldn’t figure out on his own. At some point, a dog.

Family nights that weren’t just the three of them anymore — that included Eddie, and whoever Barry’s partner was.

No matter how daunting it was to think about, it all felt possible. It even felt possible that that partner could be Len. None of what he wanted seemed to exclude him, to be negated by a boyfriend who couldn’t announce him to the world.

It also didn’t work with the way they were now. With the way they had been, before the mess of the last few weeks.

“I’m taking a job doing some coaching for the track team,” Barry said to Iris, because he had to start somewhere. This was the easiest place — something that didn’t mean he had to think about the future, or fix any of the damage he’d done, or admit to anything too difficult.

Iris turned her head up to look at him, surprise colouring her expression. In an instant, she was smiling. “That’s amazing. You’d be awesome at it.”

Barry smiled, too. It came a little easier today than it had yesterday, so he pulled his sister closer to cling to her warmth.

On the right side of the water it grew shallower under the surface, a small outcropping providing room for three people to stand comfortably with their shoulders above water. It was easier to look backwards to the night he’d spent there with Linda Park and another girl a year older than it was to look forwards, but he felt warm at the memory nonetheless. For once, the longing that came with thinking of the past wasn’t suffocating.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a beast of a chapter with a whole lotta talking and a whole lotta backstory, but we're finally getting to the point where Barry's taking a step back to think things through outside of how shit he's feeling and really acknowledge how much he's been _not_ doing that. We're also starting to wind down to the end here now - just 2 more chapters to go!
> 
> I also want to thank everyone who's been commenting, I've loved reading them and they've been a huge motivation in writing the last little leg of this that I didn't have done before I started posting. You guys have all been so sweet and kind and made me 100x more excited to post this <3

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave comments and kudos, they are very appreciated and always make me smile <3 Feel free to come talk to me on [Tumblr](https://frozenflash.tumblr.com)!
> 
> Chapters will be posted weekly, if not more often x


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